|My Dad in the late 50s/early 60s,|
an unwitting Proto-Goth.
On Putting Your Crushes On A Pedestal
When I was a teen, I plastered the walls of the room my sis and I shared with posters of my musical idols, mostly Duran Duran. One day, my dad entered and caught me
My sis and I begged our Dad to take us to the mall. "What do you want to go there for?" he asked in English. "We need to go to Macy's, to get some facial cleaners and stuff," we said. That infamous sneer put in an appearance as he replied, "Oh, you need some more shit to clean your face?" leaving Star and me in hysterics for a good five minutes before we could resume our begging. What he really meant was that we could manage our beauty routines just as effectively with drugstore products, rather than blowing our cash on the higher-end stuff. Probably.
On How to Take Command of Any Conversation
If we ever asked him a question he wasn't in the mood to answer, for some mysterious reason (so, like, all the time), he'd reply, "É o Judas, a cagar no deserto." (Translation: "It's Judas, shitting in the desert.") 'Cause, you know, he's a staunch Catholic and enjoys teaching us lessons he can relate back to the Bible. After that bomb, we'd generally sigh and repeat the question, which seemed to please him, as he'd smile at our exasperation. I've asked numerous members of the family if this "saying" was a common one with the Portuguese and was advised that the coarser folk employed it, though it's not very polite. Yeah, no kidding.
So, Happy Birthday, Dad, and thanks for all of the life lessons you've painstakingly taught Star and me through the years. May we remember them always.